When we were living in Berkeley, one of our favorite places to go for
a meal was a hauf brau house called Brennan's. It was at the end of University
Avenue, across from San Francisco Bay, under the freeway overpass. They made great
French dip sandwiches.

You waited in line in front of the carvers, they stood at huge slabs
of meat, heated by overhead lamps, and standing in the juice that formed in the pan as
they were baking. The carvers took big sourdough rolls,cut in half, dipped them in
the juice at the bottom of the pan, topped the rolls with lots of thin slices of rare
roast beef, and passed the plate along to the cashier, who gave horseradish and the beer
you'd ordered, and you took your sandwich to one of the wooden tables to enjoy your
lunch. We had many happy meals there.

It bothers me what has happened to that classic French Dip sandwich.

I went to my mother's today to have lunch. I've decided to see
her more often so I can hopefully assess how she is really doing, memory
wise. Today was a fairly good day, except she had forgotten the inauguration was
today. I had watched the ceremonies at home before I left for San Rafael, and I
turned it on when I got to her house. It was just after the lunch, when the Obamas
(et al.) were getting ready to review the troops and then get in the cars to parade down
Pennsylvania Ave.

As we sat there watching, the clock ticked on and on. It was
12:30 and there still was no sign or mention of lunch. Usually she has the table set
when I get there and usually once noon comes around, she's ready to eat. But she has
also said that she sometimes forgets to eat, so I decided I'd give it until 1 and then ask
her about food.

But as the First Couple got out of their limousine and were walking
down the street, my mother finally said "I wish they'd hurry up, so we can go to
lunch." Ahh. It was to be a "lunch out" day. When they
got back into the cars, we set the DVR to record and we got in my car and drove
to the restaurant at the nearby golf course, where we eat occasionally. They have a
nice, smallish menu and it's almost within walking distance, but we always drive,
especially today, when her legs were giving her problems.

As we left her house she started down the steps, holding onto the
railing and carefully going one step at a time, leading with the same foot each time.
"This is how I have to go down stairs now," she said to me, sighing
because she felt it showed that she was getting old. I told her I'd been going
downstairs like that for years.

Anyway, we got to the restaurant and I opened my menu and saw the
thing that has driven me nuts for years.

Arrrgggghhhh! Nail on a chalk board! FIRST of all, au
jus is two words. It is French. It means "to juice," which
essentially translates into "with juice" in English. For decades now when
you go to a restaurant that offers a French Dip sandwich they more often than not say that
it is "with au jus." Which literally means it is "with with
juice." This is the first time I've seen au jus written as one word.

Despite the offending description, my mother and I both ordered it,
and when it came, it reminded me of the second thing about a French Dip sandwich that
bother me these days.

Au jus is no longer the drippings from the pan in which the
roast beef was cooked. Now it seems to be a bowl of beef consomme. Anemic beef
taste, compared to the rich taste of the jus from the pain. It was so bad
that I hardly had any of the jus, just ate the sandwich itself, which was tasty.
I certainly couldn't complain about the amount of meat piled on it (in fact, I
brought half of it home to Walt).

I'm going to have to see if we can find a good hauf brau again some
day and have a real French dip sandwich.

We returned home and watched some of the innaugural parade and I fell
asleep for about half an hour, waking at about the time I usually leave to drive home.
It was essentially "rush hour," though I don't know how many people in
the cars were actually enjoying the day off. But a long part of the backup came on
this bridge.

I thought it would go on forever, but it turned out there had been an
accident at the very top of the bridge and once we passed that it was clear sailing all
the way home.

Felt worn out when I got home. It was not a strenuous day at
all, but just felt all drug out...and not at all hungry, so just fed Walt and came in here
to my office to write. My plan was to go to see her weekly, but I know she would
rather eat out than fix a meal these days and she won't let me pay. I tried to tell
her that next time I'd bring lunch with me, but she was adamant that I not and that she
would pay. Our lunch cost about $30 and I know she can't afford that every week, so
I may do it every other week. Unless I can figure out some sneaky way to
bring lunch with me instead!